I used to ride my bicycle all over the place when I was a kid. We grew up on bicycles. When we lived down on Snake Creek, we routinely rode any bike that we could get working down to the Dip (creek named for the yellow warning sign in front of it). I’ll never forget the Christmas the four of us kids were led outside by our parents to see a row of shiny new bikes waiting for us: bright green things with tassels on the handgrips, bone-white banana seats, and plastic wicker-like baskets with blue and pink flowers on them. Continue reading “Biking Toward Poetry”
Category: Events
Events at ROMP
From Those Unknown to Us
I just read the great poet Pablo Neruda’s description of a lifelong inspiration in his poetry. He was playing in the lot behind his house when he found a hole in the fence:
“I looked through the hole and saw a landscape like that behind our house, uncared for, and wild. I moved back a few steps, because I sensed vaguely that something was about to happen. All of a sudden a hand appeared—a tiny hand of a boy about my own age. By the time I came close again, the hand was gone, and in its place there was a marvelous white toy sheep.
“The sheep’s wool was faded. Its wheels had escaped. All of this only made it more authentic. I had never seen such a wonderful sheep. I looked back through the hole but the boy had disappeared. I went in the house and brought out a treasure of my own: a pine cone, opened, full of odor and resin, which I adored. I set it down in the same spot and went off with the sheep.
“I never saw either the hand or the boy again.” Continue reading “From Those Unknown to Us”
Message (Poem) in a Bottle
If you find one of my poems in a bottle, post a response below. Where did you find it? What do you think of the poem? Do you have a poem in return?
I Have a Scary Story-Poem for You!
Howl of coyote, whimper of mouse,
Rustle in the grass near the poison oak.
Do you hear what she hears when you go out?
What’s in the silence between each frog’s croak?
Down by the pond where the creatures come
Ghosts in the air and the water shine.
The moon is new in the summer night
And black like the waters of a witch’s wine.
These are some sample lines from the story-poem I will be telling tonight during Ghost Tales at the Territory Tellers annual storytelling event! The Spirit of Oklahoma Storytelling Festival is in its 7th year at Seminole State College in Seminole. The festival starts this afternoon, June 7, and continues on Saturday, June 8 with a full day of stories and events, such as a silent auction, story swaps, and more. Continue reading “I Have a Scary Story-Poem for You!”
Little Town Life
The downside of growing up in a small town is that everyone knows you and your business. The beauty of growing up in a small town is that everyone knows you and your business.
I grew up in Locust Grove, a northeastern Oklahoma town of around 1200 people, and when I graduated high school in 1980, and left for OSU, I was ecstatic. Though Stillwater was only a few hours away, it might as well have been another country. No one knew me there. No one knew my family. No one knew where I was going on Friday night or where I had been Saturday morning or what my dog’s name was or what car I drove or how often my mom went to the beauty shop and my uncle visited the liquor store. Continue reading “Little Town Life”
I Share Cookies With You
Cookies! I have cookies. I will share. I will not eat them all. Come see me and I will give you one. Or two. Or three. Cookies! Here is my poem about cookies:
Me want cookie.
You want cookie?
I got cookie.
You want cookie?
We got poems.
You want poem?
Cookie or poem.
We got both.
You eat one.
You eat both.
Come to the Cruelest Month Celebration. Cookies. Lemonade. Treasure Hunt. Poems. Nature. Good people. Good weather. Need more info.? Call or email: 918-864-9152 or rompoetry@gmail.com.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
2-6 p.m.
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Locust Grove OK
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 